


Sky like diamonds

by kurushi



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Canon, Recovery, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurushi/pseuds/kurushi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everything is finished, Effie Trinket travels to District Twelve thinking of coal, diamonds, and the blue colour of her polypropylene hard-backed travel suitcase. She was left behind, once, and she's pretty sure that she knows the reason why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sky like diamonds

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Doranwen for spelling and grammar edit. Any canon or other remaining errors are my own.
> 
> I had deep and complex feelings about Effie, through the whole series. I sat on the draft for this for almost a year, before deciding to post it. I'd appreciate any feedback, especially critical, on characterisation.

Effie Trinket showed up in District Twelve as early as she could, which wasn't very at all. She'd pushed it too far, too hard, too fast, the first few weeks after District Thirteen had seized the Capitol and President Snow. She hadn't really had a choice. Haymitch, she'd heard, had hit the bottle the second that hints of victory were echoing over communications channels. The District Thirteen people seemed like upstanding and moral folk, but upstanding and moral folk have a way of getting their friends arrested and killed. Also, well, District Twelve had only ever had four Victors, and Effie had only Escorted two of them. These two. _Her_ two. So she'd taken the doctor's advice of bed rest and rehydration and filed it in her head alongside 'must check to see if my apartment still exists some day' and 'I wonder if the banks will honour my account details now that the world has ended?' Put it all aside and did what she had to.

She had taken a shower, dressed in the best clothes she could find, borrowed some makeup, and sent a runner to retrieve anything she still owned in the way of dresses and wigs and shoes as she strode down the hallway. The people taking care of Katniss and Peeta were taken by surprise; she probably looked shocking and horrific with her gaunt face and sunken eyes, the bruises on her skin. They didn't stand a chance, and Effie was able to assert herself as their acting guardian. After that, she had just worked, and then, when they were all safe and bundled back home to hide and sleep and cry and have nightmares and kill rabbits so that they could be baked into pies, she had presented herself to the doctors again. They'd given her an earful, then put her on a drip and started tutting over blood tests. But sleep, food, water, and she was mostly on the mend. She'd been imprisoned, but she hadn't been tortured that much, not compared to the others. It took her a little longer to earn her ultimate freedom, which depended on securing her bank accounts and catching up with all the paperwork a revolution generates, on top of getting medical and psychological approval to travel. It took her six months nearly to the day to follow Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch to District Twelve.

Not many people moved back, but enough had that the place was busy with construction and movement. Effie felt conspicuous as she walked through the small crowds. She'd dressed to fit in, all greens and browns, no wigs, and she still stood out like a sore thumb. Maybe it was something to do with her gait. People from the Districts all seemed to have a very heavy and tired way of walking; then again, maybe that was just her experience of them. Tributes had a lot of reasons to drag their feet when they came to the Capitol.

She still knew the way to the Victor's Village, and Katniss and Haymitch's houses stood out amongst the uninhabited and dilapidated buildings. So the Hunger Games were over, but some things were not changing quite yet, it seemed. Effie could see warm lights and hear friendly, familiar voices in Katniss's house. She walked past them and right up the steps to Haymitch Abernathy's place.

'Hello?' she called out, settling her bag on the doorstep. 'Haymitch Abernathy, are you at home?'

He didn't answer. There were no lights on inside, but Effie had known Haymitch long enough to know that didn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. She collapsed the trundling handle back into her suitcase and parked it what she felt was a safe distance from the front door. It was one of her own ones, recovered from her old place, and even with the scars from everything it had been through, the bright blue plastic stood out unnaturally in District Twelve. Blue, Effie remembered from school, was one of the least natural colours out there. It was a warning colour, a risk in terms of basic human survival and food.

'If you are naked, I promise I shall scream. It will make your head hurt, and you'll regret it.' She called out the warning so that she could tell him later that she'd made the effort, knowing he wouldn't hear her.

She knocked, to be polite, shouldered her bag again and stepped inside. It was foetid, reeking. Offensive to any sensible human. Effie picked her way through the rooms. Plates and bottles and paper waste on the floor. Things in puddles that she did not want to think about. She found Haymitch asleep in a nest of blankets on the floor beside an empty, lacquered pine television cabinet.

'Is it even worth trying to wake you?' she asked.

Haymitch drooled on himself a bit. Effie made a face and poked him with the toe of her shoe. He shifted a little, mumbled in his sleep. She poked him again, and again. This method had worked when they had worked together in the Capitol, but who knew how much further he'd been able to pickle himself since then? The man had no self control.

'Wha?'

'I suppose that's the best I'll be getting out of you. Well, come on. Up. I'm not going to give you a hand.'

He squinted at her. 'Who're you?'

Effie sighed and rolled her eyes. 'Who do you think, Haymitch? How much damage are you doing to yourself, drinking like that? I hope you appreciate the work I had to do, to get you approved to leave the Capitol without drying out.'

'Huh?' Haymitch shoved himself up on his elbows, blinked to clear his eyes, really looked at her. She looked right back at him, with her hands on her hips. Waiting.

'Um, nope. Who are you?'

Effie bit off another sigh and shook her head. 'Brain damage, I'm sure of it. I'll have to get a medical team out here for you, and you _know_ how hard it is to schedule that.'

'Thing is,' Haymitch said, 'you're speaking an awful lot like that bitch of an Escort I used to have.'

'That,' Effie said tightly, 'is because I am your Escort, Haymitch.' She bit the inside of her mouth. She'd been told, when she first took the job. People from the Districts will never see you as an ally. They'll always hate you. She knew that. But things had changed. She'd gone to _prison_ for him. She'd kept her mouth shut, she'd thrown herself into protecting them all. She deserved better than the epithet of _bitch_.

She couldn't leave yet, though. Had to keep going. She ignored the sounds of Haymitch struggling to his feet and clearing his throat. Walked straight into the kitchen, where she started cleaning a mug and inspecting the kettle. Hopefully there was something that passed for caffeine in the cupboards somewhere. Looking for and finding a box of powdered hot chocolate sachets kept her occupied enough while Haymitch struggled around in the other room, and then banged up the stairs and started running a shower. At least he had the sense to give her some space. When he came back down, he looked lucid, if not fully awake. When he looked at her, his eyes focussed more steadily. She held out the mug in her hands.

'Here. I'd ask you to try to keep a civil tongue in your mouth, but we both know better than that, don't we?'

He scowled at her and sipped his drink. Did not say thank-you. 'Well, serves you right for barging in here like that.'

'Like what?' Effie asked, trying to modulate the irritation out of her voice.

'Like that. Where's your usual, you know, hair. Stuff.'

Effie shrugged. 'Doctor's orders, nothing that will aggravate my migraines. Also, it's tacky to wear a symbol of the Capitol's oppression into the Districts when I don't have to any more.'

Haymitch gaped at her. 'You're tellin' me that shit was just for your work?'

'No,' Effie explained patiently to him, 'I'm telling you that I am clever enough to pick and choose my battles, and to forego vanity and ego for the sake of... oh, you'll never understand.'

Haymitch drained his cup to the dregs and set it down on the bench. 'No, go on, tell me _just_ how barbaric I am. I bet you descended from your nice, happy status quo to come and share your feelings.'

Effie hadn't meant to sound so hateful, but Haymitch was making it too easy. She clenched a fist at her side, leaned forwards, and found herself shouting, spitting, to get the words out. ' _I came here_ ,' she screamed, ' _to find out why you, Haymitch Abernathy, organised a mission to rescue everyone_ but _me.'_

Haymitch stepped back, stunned. 'What now?'

Effie couldn't hold back a hysterical laugh. 'What do you mean, _what now?_! You know, as well as anyone does, why we were being held in those cells. One tidy little piece of emotional blackmail for every Victor, every defector. Peeta for Katniss, Annie for Finnick, Johanna for... to be honest, I never knew very much about that one. Effie Trinket for —'

Haymitch had started to shake his head. His hands were trembling. 'No, no no no!' he said, before she had the chance to finish. 'No. Not true. You're lying. They just took you, you, because you were left behind and somebody had to be punished. Snow had nothing left on me, nothing!'

Effie nodded in disbelief. 'That's not what they told me, Haymitch. They didn't tell me _why_ I was leverage over you, whether it was love or guilt or hatred. But we knew, in those cells, why we were being kept in that special corridor. And then, we were moved to a less secure location. And then, soldiers from District Thirteen broke in and rescued everyone. Everyone. But. Me. On your orders?'

Haymitch hadn't heard her. He was still shaking, mouthing the word 'No', shivering. Effie felt something hollow inside, draining away all her fury and her tension.

'Haymitch?' She reached out to him, but he pulled away. He dug his hands into his dark greying hair and when he breathed in and out, there was a tight raspy sound in his throat.

'M'fine. Don't you know, I live here alone? You have to know, Effie. Capitol killed everyone who meant a damn to me. Punishment.'

Effie relaxed. Everyone in the Capitol knew what a sudden and unexpected death from illness meant, it happened so often to politicians and the dangerously powerful. They'd all known what Haymitch had gone home to after the Hunger Games, those in the business who'd heard about it. 'Okay. Maybe they didn't have anybody for you, or maybe our working relationship was the closest they could get to you. Calm down. I still want my answers.'

'Answers to what?' a young woman asked from the hallway.

'Hello, Katniss,' Effie said pleasantly, straightening her spine and smiling as sweetly as she could. 'Nothing, really. Not important right now.'

Haymitch looked pale and cowed back against his filthy benchtop. Effie stood with her arms crossed opposite him. She knew Katniss would misinterpret things.

'Looks pretty important to me,' Katniss said stubbornly.

'Leave it', Haymitch said harshly. 'Not now, Katniss.'

My, but everyone was full of important and serious business. Effie had forgotten just how sullen and bitter those two were. She clasped her hands together and swallowed her saliva, fishing for an excuse to get out of the stalemate of grumpy staring that Katniss tended to get stuck in when she was in a mood.

'Well, I should get my things. Go find somewhere to stay.'

Haymitch lurched forwards, faster than she expected. He looked too tired to move that fast. 'You can stay here. I've got a guest room.'

'Can I, now? Well isn't that sweet of you.'

'I'll call this girl,' Haymitch said, 'she'll do the laundry. Clean the spare room up for you. Hang on.'

He tugged on Effie's bag, but she tugged it sharply back. Haymitch shrugged and shuffled out into the living room.

'He has a phone?' Effie asked. 'I should have checked before I came out. I just assumed.'

Katniss snorted. 'Mum bullied him into it. Bribed him, I think. She wanted to spy on me.' Her tone was lighter than it would have been just months before. Perhaps not that sullen, after all.

Effie smiled, turned her head to Katniss. The girl was growing up; she was learning to see the world outside herself and the people in it. 'Well, I suppose that's one way to go about things.'

'I'm not going to beat around the bush,' Katniss said. 'None of us here want anything coming back down on our heads. Why are you here, Effie?'

As Effie opened her mouth to respond, she thought fast. She didn't want to lie to the girl. 'It's too much, in the Capitol. I can't be who I was before. I didn't know where else to go, right now.' All true, just conveniently missing the important and actual truth smack bang in the middle.

'Shit, Effie, don't play nice. Be honest, Katniss has earned it.'

Haymitch's breath was foul, and sadly she could smell it because he was leaning on her shoulder. How that man could sneak up on anyone, the state he was in!

'Well now,' Effie said carefully. 'I came to demand an answer, er —' She smiled nervously. 'It did sound a little bit more powerful when I talked myself into it.'

Katniss frowned. 'Answer?'

'As to whyyy'—Haymitch drew it out, his breath making the hairs in Effie's nostrils curl—'Miss Trinket here wants to know how come there was an order to rescue every other damn person in her prison, save her, when we went in to get your pretty boy back.'

Effie's eyes widened as she saw Katniss' face turn completely pale.

'Yeah. Thought so.' Haymitch sounded angry, bitter, like he was delivering the punchline to a very old argument. Effie shoved him off her shoulder and took a few steps away so that she could face him.

'Haymitch! It's hardly Katniss's fault!'

'You didn't _tell_ me!' Katniss said, plaintively. 'How was I supposed to know if you never _told_ me anything?'

Haymitch scoffed at her. 'And when was I supposed to do that, missie? When you were oh so busy avoiding me and not listening to anything I said? Or when you started making threats and demands without consulting with anyone who could have helped you strategise?!'

Effie had the sinking feeling that her own injustices had been turned into an excuse to repeat a different and unrelated argument. She didn't like being referred to as shrill, but sometimes that high edge to her voice was very useful. 'Now, I'm very touched that you both care so much about my well-being, that you're happy to blame each other for it, that it matters so much to you. But honestly, please. This isn't helping anyone.'

Haymitch had the grace to look guilty. Katniss just looked horrified.

'Effie, I'm not, I... it's all my fault. I only insisted that some people were brought back; I only thought about the people who were on my mind in that second. I almost forgot to ask for anyone other than Peeta, I was so short-sighted.'

'Well, at least I know why,' Effie said. She tried to keep her tone matter of fact. Her voice still wobbled around the corners of her words. 'It's no use worrying about what's past. You were only a child, Katniss. You can't always save the civilised world from itself.'

She gave Katniss a pat on the shoulder, but Haymitch seemed to know her better than she herself did. He bundled Katniss out of the house, telling her to get Peeta to make something for dinner or some equally transparent excuse. He was back in time for everything to boil over inside Effie. She slammed her hand against a cupboard door, curled in on herself until she was sitting in a ball on the floor. Shaking arms wrapped around her knees, fingers gripping her ankles.

'I spent every second of every day after they were drawn from the bowls, every waking second and at least half of my dreams, managing their PR. Calling up sponsors. Eating shit, sucking up to two-faced handsy businessmen. I fought to get them good stylists, I fought to get dirt on their opponents, I opened myself up to politics! You know what politics means, in the Capitol. Haymitch!'

He knelt down beside her. 'I know.'

'I, I burned, day and night, to keep those children alive. The year after they won, I hardly _slept_ when we weren't on the tour. I worked myself to the bone, I went to prison _for_ them. She forgot about me?!'

'She's a kid,' Haymitch said, over and over. She knew he was right, but it didn't hurt any less. 'She's a kid, and half of your job was insulating them both from the uglier truths of the Capitol.'

' _She_ forgot me.' Effie rocked back and forth, pushed Haymitch's hands away from her. Her body shook with hiccups every time she breathed in. Tears and snot turned her face into a squishy mess. 'It was annoying, you forget me, you're a drunk arsehole. I can get angry at you, and then it's all out of me. But she forgot me. I can't hate her, I can't, can't. She's still just a _child_.'

The agony of it all hurt more than anything she'd suffered in the Capitol. More than when she'd stared, eyes burning with tears, and watched two children tip handfuls of dark nightlock berries towards their lips. Her body felt too fragile to process such a large emotion. It was a physical emotion, an ache deep in her bones. She clung to her knees and sobbed until her throat was hoarse and ragged dry. There had been no point in showing up, claiming an explanation. There was no one person to blame for her own suffering. Not Snow: he mightn't have even been the one to make the decision. Not the police or military, who just followed orders. Not Haymitch or Katniss. Just terrible luck in an unjust world, and as her body calmed down, Effie cried from the horror of herself. She felt bitter, twisted and ugly inside. Tainted by her own thoughts and actions. You can forget who you are deep down inside, but you can't escape it.

She grew calmer, worn out. Even those ideas bled away, and she was just small and empty. Haymitch crouched near her, watching. Patient, like he'd gone through something similar himself. Oh, but they were all a mess.

Afterwards, Effie felt stupid, drained; a migraine building behind her eyes. She could feel her sinuses trying to refill themselves, a tight agony beneath the skin around her nose and under her eyes. She crouched in her corner in the kitchen and slowly drank three glasses of water. Haymitch refilled her glass for her, ruffled her short natural hair, and nudged her towards the shower.

'Trust me, I'm used to rebuilding myself after a day like you've had. Shower. Coffee. Then you get to see little Peeta, he'll be happy to see you.'

She frowned. 'I doubt your bathroom is anywhere approaching usable, the way you keep a house.'

'Ah, right. Coffee, then. I've got a jar, somewhere. And mugs.' He looked around his cupboards, but of course there weren't any clean mugs.

Effie elbowed past him and washed another, put it in his hand.

'Hey! I can do my own dishes, you know.'

Effie smiled, though it felt very forced. 'That's wonderful. You've got a lot of raw material to work with; I can't wait to be convinced.'

He glared at her, but put the kettle on.

'Actually, is the water good to drink, here?'

Haymitch gave her a dirty look, but Effie just waved a hand. 'What? You used to complain about the water here. It's not unreasonable to ask.'

'Fine,' Haymitch said tightly, 'since you happen to ask. No more coal dust getting into the water tanks. Or something.'

'Something,' Effie agreed. 'There would have been filters to screen out most of the contaminants. More likely, you got newer pipes.'

Haymitch stared at her. She stared back. It was hard to look unimpressed and sarcastic, when your eyes were still pinkish red.

'I rented; most people do. Older apartments can have problems. You didn't think there were plumbing police, making sure we all had everything perfect, did you? Landowners only ever have their own profits in mind. They're a lot like evil dictators, in that respect. Except they don't have the social capital to command their own armies.'

Haymitch stared at Effie, and she felt a little awkward. Was he horrified by her? He got that way sometimes, when she forgot that they'd grown up in such different situations, worlds away from each other. Was he astonished, by the reminder that not everybody in the Capitol was rich or financially secure? Whatever he was feeling, he didn't put words to it. Just stared, until a young girl arrived and interrupted him.

'Mr. Abernathy?'

'Ah, yes. Start in the shower, then the guest bedroom.'

'And everything else after that?'

Haymitch rolled his eyes. 'Why not? Can't have my friend here suffering from my lifestyle.'

Friend. Even in a sarcastic tone of voice, he'd called her his friend. What an odd idea, that they were friends. Effie supposed it was the only label that properly fit. She was staying; the idea was sinking in more. She went to the front door to retrieve her suitcase.

Haymitch shuffled along behind her, and leaned against the wall to watch her heft it up over the doorjamb. When she looked at him, he raised both hands in a shrug.

'Friends don't let hungover friends lift heavy objects,' he said by means of explanation.

'So we're friends, then?'

He shrugged again. She didn't care. The girl, whose name she hadn't caught, had finished in the bathroom. She could shower. Water felt different in the Districts, and the shower fittings were a different shape. No glass walls, no controls. Shampoo and conditioner, if they existed, probably came in bottles. Haymitch apparently only ever used a bar of soap. She sniffed at it, and reached for her emergency supplies that she'd packed. Small bottles, but they'd do the job. She left her suitcase in the hall and locked the bathroom door behind herself.

She felt fresh, awake, clean, afterwards. She dressed in something more comfortable to wear, a knee-length flaring skirt and a simple ruffled blouse. Relaxed clothing, loose around her body. Being out of the public eye felt like being freed from iron chains. She snapped her suitcase shut, folded her dirty clothes up, and poked her head around doorways until she found what must be the guest room. Tidy, the window open to air, and the bed stripped of sheets. Downstairs somewhere, the sound of a washing machine trundled along. Effie looked out the window, but there wasn't much to see.

Downstairs was another story. The girl was scrubbing at the kitchen bench furiously. Haymitch was slumped in a chair that Effie would have sworn hadn't existed in that corner before. Peeta Mellark was standing beside him, and turned to see her arrive. His face was lit up, cheerful and happy. There was always something suspicious about how genuine the boy seemed, but maybe he really was just naïve. You could see the pain in the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, if you knew where to look. Effie couldn't keep the memories of his screams from echoing in her head. She'd heard them in her cell sometimes, knowing that it was not an accident. Some hidden speaker, playing the evidence of her failure as an Escort and a protector of this boy, just for her.

'Hello, Peeta dear.'

She couldn't have predicted the way he more or less ran to her, embraced her. He hadn't been anywhere near as familiar when they'd been winding down the revolution in the Capitol. Her arms went up around him reflexively. He was warm, alive, real. He seemed more like the little boy who'd smiled so bravely, terrified of what being drawn as a Tribute had meant. Not like the young man who'd been tortured and drugged, lied to and conditioned to hatefulness. She held on a little tighter, until he pulled back to show her his smile again.

'Effie! It's so good to see you!'

'Well, it's only been a short time since you saw me in the Capitol, but I have to say the same.'

That confused him a little. 'Did I? Sorry, things are still mixed up some days.'

'Oh, never mind. I can't remember the word for broccoli some days. It's so good to _see_ you!'

Peeta nodded. He kept a hand on her, like he was checking to make sure she was really there. She shared a look with Haymitch. They both knew they'd failed Peeta. It felt wrong that he didn't seem to even know there was anything to forgive.

'It is! I had this nice idea, I can set the folding table up outside. There's still leftover pie, we can make some sandwiches. Sit outside for dinner.'

'Al fresco.' Effie smiled. Haymitch and Peeta both looked baffled. Effie laughed and shook her head. 'Outside sounds delightful.'

It was, or at least it was after an awkward and stilted start. The menu was quite randomised, leftovers and preserves and sauces that were obviously simply to hand. Two years ago, Effie would have found the idea of an unplanned dinner party like this quaint and delightful, but coming out the other side of a prison sentence, it simply seemed different. She still didn't like the idea of mixing some of the flavours, and a slice of bread spread with jam was weird following a bite of gamey pie, but the sheer abundance of the food felt indulgent.

'This is wonderful, thank you.' It sounded trite, she knew. She could see the way that Katniss' shoulders tensed in response.

'Katniss makes the jam,' Peeta said, 'because she's the one that gets the berries.'

'It's delicious,' Effie said. 'And the view, well. The way the clouds turn orange when the sun goes down, it's just...'

'Isn't it?' Haymitch said. 'Just wait until you get a clear day, stand away from the buildings, and there's nothing but blue all 'round you.'

'Blue?' Effie asked. 'Sky blue, light reflecting back off of little particles at the right angle. So the sky is invisible, but it's blue. Something about wavelengths, I think? Blue resonates for longer.'

'If you say so,' Katniss said, all sarcastic challenge.

Effie waggled a finger at her, grinning. 'I'll let that go, missy, because I know what's buttering-'

'Jamming,' Peeta said very seriously, 'there's no butter on the table. And when there is, Katniss isn't the one who —'

'Jamming my bread, then.'

Haymitch snorted. 'It's the bread that counts, surely. How you slice it.'

Katniss snorted; Peeta smiled and ducked his head. As Effie laughed, she looked past them to Haymitch, to see him looking more relaxed and happy then she'd ever seen him.

'It's good you're here, Effie,' he said, when everything was dark and they'd tripped over each other to get everything back inside. 'I don't think we know how to laugh without you.'

She pursed her lips. 'I'll choose to take that as a compliment. Though, for the record, the three of you are the ludicrous ones.'

When she went into the guest bedroom, the bed had been made up. Her suitcase was sitting at the foot of the bed, and as Effie got her pyjamas out of it, she started making a list of things. Planning for the future, that's how you moved on from things, right? She was going to learn the name of the girl who'd cleaned the house. She was going to stay with her friends for as long as they'd have her. She'd watch them grow old and happy in safety, if she could. One day, soon, she would look up at the sky and see a colour so blue that her eyes watered.


End file.
